


What's Mine

by veroreos



Series: Behind Closed Doors [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ...Quite literally in this case, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, It's just stitches don't worry, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veroreos/pseuds/veroreos
Summary: Reader takes a bullet on the field. A familiar enemy helps patch them up.





	What's Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cornered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942695) by [Demial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demial/pseuds/Demial). 



> hey! this work is inspired by Demial's lovely work!  
> it's uh. sort of in the same storyline? kind of sort of implied? maybe?
> 
> Reader and Gabe have been secretly fuckin' that's all the background i've got for you folks

You’re too busy digging through your surgical kit to notice him approaching. Honestly, you wouldn’t have heard him anyway—but you’re so distracted that when you hear him speak, you nearly drop the needle in your hand.

“I took care of them.” Reaper is standing in the doorway as silently as ever, though by the rise and fall of his chest, you can tell he’d been running. When you give him a confused look, he tries again, sounding more patient than you’d normally expect him to be. “The agent that shot you. They were still looking for you. I took care of them.”

You purse your lips and add a bit more pressure to the wound in your side. “They were a Talon agent though,” you say. He doesn’t say anything and you furrow your brows as you turn your attention back to the surgical kit, hoping that you packed enough gauze. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

The hollow bark of laughter from him makes you flinch. “You think I listen to  _ them _ ?”

Given what’s been conspiring between the two of you for the past couple of months, you suppose it was a stupid question, in retrospect.

His boots thud with each step, heavy on the creaking wood as he walks over to you. Reaper stares down at your sitting form, watching as you prepare all the tools you need. There’s a tense silence, as if something should be said, but you’re not sure what it is, so you simply focus on the task at hand. Your hands shake as you shrug off your coat and shirt, trying not to feel embarrassed under Reaper’s gaze. “The bullet came out clean,” you say softly, looking down at the blooming red patch on your white coat. “But it’s going to need some stitches.”

Reaper is still as you pull out the box of gloves. When you retrieve a pair, a clawed hand suddenly grabs your wrist, and you look up to him in alarm. His expression is unreadable behind the mask. “Let me do it for you.”

“What?” You can’t help how incredulous you sound, though he doesn’t lash out in response to it. “I am a  _ medical officer _ , I’m perfectly capable of--”

“You shouldn’t treat your own damn bullet wound,” he says, voice a low growl. “I’ve done this before. Give me the kit.”

Your gazes are locked, each challenging each other, until the pain in your side makes you wince. With a sigh, you slide the kit over to him before laying down. Reaper’s gauntlets make a heavy sound as they the ground, and as you close your eyes, you hear the familiar snap of rubber gloves.

“It’s going to hurt,” Reaper warns, and you snort, rolling your eyes. No  _ shit _ . “You’re a medical officer first, soldier second. I’m guessing you haven’t taken many bullets before.”

“This would be the first one that isn’t rubber.” This time he rolls his eyes at you...you think. Even though you can’t see it, you feel like you can tell by the way his shoulders move.

It isn’t long before Reaper is on his knees beside you, needle and thread in hand. You swallow hard and close your eyes, your fingers digging into your thighs in anticipation. One large hands rests on your stomach, stroking a gentle circle into your skin as you take a deep breath. “I’ll do this fast. Don’t scream. Hold onto me if you need to.”

You consider it for only a moment before moving your hand to rest on his thigh. Under other circumstances, you might take the time to appreciate his muscles. “Are you going to do a count?”

He peers down, watching your face. “Sure. Close your eyes.” You do as he asks, trying to steady your nerves in the darkness. “One.”

Reaper slides the needle in and you only barely manage to bite back a shriek, instead letting out a high whine and digging your heel into the floor as his hand moves. “Mmn--! Wh, wha, what are--you, you didn’t, you…”

“I counted to one,” he says, only the slightest hint of amusement in his steady voice. “Take deep breaths. Stop wiggling around.”

“Fuck you,” you gasp out as you try to steady yourself. Your fingers are digging so hard into his thigh you’re sure he’s going to have marks. “Fuck, shit, give me a--ah, please, a moment, mngh!”

Reaper doesn’t, instead continuing with the motions as you sob underneath him. You raise a hand to your mouth to muffle yourself, shuddering with every movement of the needle. It feels like he’s going to go on forever, dragging the needle through every inch of your skin, patching you together like a doll for his sick amusement--

“Done.” You blink, only barely managing to look up and peek at the wound through your tears. Sure enough, Reaper’s already finished. It’s not the cleanest job, but it’s definitely going to hold you together. It still stings, but the pain is already starting to fade as Reaper wipes away the blood and dresses the wound. “Told you I’d be fast.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him. “Yeah, but your bedside manners are shit.” Reaper chuckles at that, the sound like rolling thunder that makes your spine tingle. “You do this for all your teammates?”

“They aren’t worth my time.” There’s a pause between the two of you, and he stops bandaging the wound for a moment to glance up and meet your gaze. You’re sure your cheeks are burning, but you can’t help it with that kind of subtle admission. This is the closest Reaper’s come to admitting to really caring about you in any kind of capacity--hell, this might be the closest he’ll ever come.

He reaches over and wipes a tear from your cheek. You’re not sure if it’s from when he was stitching you up or if you started crying again. With a soft smile, you lean into his touch for only a moment before gently batting his hand away. “Gross! You’re supposed to take the gloves off before you start dressing the wound.”

Reaper shrugs and peels the gloves off, finishing covering your wound before handing your shirt back to you. He gathers all of your medical supplies back together as you dress yourself, slowly getting to your feet and groaning with effort. “They’re looking for you as we speak. Get a move on.”

“Alright,” you say, straightening out your jacket and brushing the dirt off. Hopefully someone back at the base has some tips for getting blood out of a uniform. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I wasn’t the one who got shot.” Reaper hands you the medkit before brushing past you, on his way out to the door. “If you’re talking about the agent who shot you, nobody’s going to say anything about it. They know better than that.”

“Wait!” Surprisingly, he actually stops, turning to glance at you over his shoulder. You quickly walk over to him, and before you can lose this brief burst of courage, you pull his face down, pressing a kiss to the nose of his mask. “Thank you.”

Reaper is frozen for a moment, and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or pissed by your bravado. When he lets out a pleased laugh and pulls your hips against his, you instinctively press yourself against him, face buried against his chest. He holds you there as he leans in, lifting his mask just enough to whisper into your ear.

“I take care of what’s mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was recovering from a very painful surgery when i wrote this, oop  
> (also this is way fluffier than i initially wanted it to be, uh, sorry Demial, i have soiled your work)
> 
>  
> 
> hmu with requests @ vault11overseer on tumblr!


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